Saving Amity
by PiscesChikk
Summary: This is a sequel to the one shot titled Dark Terrors where Reese offers comfort to Carter after Taylor was recovered from Elias. It's September 11th and haunting dreams and memories force Reese to seek the comfort he finds in Carter.


A/N Hope you all enjoy this one shot/sequel I wrote for Dark Terrors.

****I do not own any of these characters or the show.

* * *

"_**I wish this weekend could go on forever…."**_

"…_**.I'm gonna buy a boat….you get to be my first mate…."**_

"_**What?"**_

There were faint echoes of laughter; melodious, whispery….he knew he heard them.

"…_**.we need some more Tequila."**_

More laughter, for just a minute second, or were they screams? He couldn't tell now, it was like blackness pulling him down.

And then nothing.

* * *

Reese woke up so abruptly feeling almost like someone was in the loft with him. His heart was beating fast, his breathing was the same and he reached quickly for the SIG-Sauer next to him on the nightstand. He stumbled out of bed, walking around the loft with his gun drawn, rubbing his eyes, holding his head, looking for anything out of place, but found nothing.

He leaned up against a wall for a minute with a hand to his chest commanding his heart to be still. He'd had a dream, it was so vivid, images so startling, but he couldn't remember what it was about. He'd heard voices, screams, whispers, even laughter but he couldn't remember what was said.

He took a few deep breaths, bent his knees and his head down to still the dizzying feeling he had right now and eventually it subsided.

He walked into the kitchen with the gun still in his hand, drawing a little comfort from it and got a large coffee mug out of one of the cupboards. He looked around at the fresh coffee that had just been brewed, the machine having been on its regular timer as usual. He poured slowly into the cup, adding a little creamer and sipped on the brew. He leaned on the kitchen counter for a minute, drinking more of the hot beverage. It was early still, just after six but he hadn't heard his phone ring. Normally Finch would have called him by now with news of another number.

He walked out of the kitchen then in search of his phone, checking the call log and besides communication with Finch the night before, there were no new calls.

Something was off, he thought. Something's not right. But he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Thirty minutes and a shower and shave later and he still wasn't able to shake the feeling that something was terribly out of place. As he sat dressed in his black pants and crisp white shirt on the couch, he heard the ring of his cell phone and picked it up. Finch had finally decided to call him.

"Hello Finch."

"No need to come to the library, Mr. Reese. We have no new numbers today."

Finch's voice on the line was unusually somber, heavy. Reese was curious. He could hear Bear's barks in the background and the sound of New York City traffic in his ears.

"Where are you, Finch?"

"Central Park. I decided to take Bear out for an early morning walk with me. He's behaved so well, he might even get a doggie Danish later on."

"I'm sure he'll enjoy that. Call me later if we get anything new."

"I will, Mr. Reese."

He was about to hang up when Finch stopped him."

"Mr. Reese….is everything alright?" It wasn't an odd question really. They'd worked together for a while now; they were both able to sense at times when something was off about the other. But after having the weird dream he had last night, he felt it more than coincidental that Finch should ask the question.

"Everything's fine, Finch." He answered and hung up.

No numbers to work on and finally a day to himself and he felt restless to say the least. He switched the television on and that's when it finally hit him.

"…_..tributes today for those who lost their lives…"_

"…_..the firemen who died when they were among the first responders to….."_

"…_September 11__th__ 2001 was a day that we all will remember…."_

He sat on the couch listening to the newscast, but not hearing the words. He was immediately transported back to that day in the hotel. That fateful day he'd spent with Jessica, talking about his impending discharge, dreams to buy a boat, a life he wanted for the two of them. The life that never happened because of the tragedy and his obligation to go back and serve his country.

No wonder his dreams had been plagued as of late. It was as if his mind had known what was coming. It seemed every year his guilt was determined to never let him forget what had happened to them, to her, because of the choice he made.

He turned the TV off and slipped his jacket on.

In the New York air, there was a hint of sorrow, reverence, some guilt even, and intimation that it was time to move on from the past. He didn't know exactly which of those he was feeling the most, but all of them seemed to hit him at once.

He set off down the street, not really seeing anyone, not really hearing what was going on around him. He wasn't sure where he would end up; he simply followed his feet and let them lead the way.

* * *

Ten more minutes, she told herself as she sped up a little moving slightly to her left to avoid colliding with an old woman who wasn't paying attention to where she was going. Just ten more minutes and then you can head home.

The park had been filled with runners like her today. She had expected that today of all days, there'd be but a scant number of people out, but these New Yorkers had other ideas. McCallum Park was vast, and runners showed up in droves normally, some with ear buds in their ears, blocking out the sounds of birds, traffic, kids who sometimes accompanied their parents. They were young and old, different races and genders all united if only for an hour in the quest to burn calories, lose weight or simply stay in shape.

She tried to get out to this park at least twice a week and run for about an hour. Her schedule lately and work load hadn't allowed it much. But today was her day off and she ignored the cries of her bed to stay under the covers and made herself throw on some track pants and a t-shirt and hit the dirt. She was glad she did. Her heart was pumping; her breath was filling her lungs. She felt alive.

Taylor was off to school and when she finally got home, she'd have the apartment all to herself. As she ran her last lap she finally let her thoughts turn to the tragedy that happened years ago. September 11th. It seemed like it was just yesterday. She remembered being deployed in Iraq at the time. She'd been in an interrogation for hours with a terror suspect so she hadn't heard about what had happened till later that night. She had been frantic trying to reach Taylor and her mom. She along with others in her unit was devastated that something of this magnitude had reached their country. It was unprecedented. Everyone was trying to reach their loved ones via phone, the internet, and whatever form of communication was available. She wasn't able to think properly, let alone focus until she finally heard her mother's voice on the phone saying they were alright. She remembered shedding a few tears when she'd finally gotten through. She could hear sounds around her of others' crying that hadn't been so lucky.

She stood near the bleachers, stretching her legs out, her arms, shoulders, thinking how lucky she was to be alive, to have Taylor and her mom and how she'd always remember those who were lost that day.

She started the walk back to her place, her stomach rumbling since she'd left early without eating and she mentally pictured what was in her kitchen thinking about what she'd cook. She mopped the sweat from her face with the towel round her neck, her front porch finally in sight. She climbed the few steps and put her key in the lock opening her door.

"How was your morning run, detective?" She spun round quickly at the sound of that voice, seeing John directly behind her.

"Where on earth did you come from?" She said looking up at him. She hadn't seen him at all when she came through her corner or started up her front steps.

"I've been…..walking." He replied and she noticed the two bags in his hands.

"What's that?" She asked as she went inside. "Come in." She invited and he followed.

"I thought we'd have breakfast together. My treat." His tone was so matter of fact, she almost believed him. But the look on his face, ever so brief, told him that something was up but he didn't quite know how to spit it out. She remembered how he came over the night that he rescued Taylor from Elias, how she'd fallen apart in his arms, how he'd been there for her. He'd been more than a good friend that night. Now it seemed he needed the same. Without commenting on his mood she simply nodded her head and invited him in.

He took the bags into the kitchen setting them down and opened them, resting their contents on the counter. It looked like a big spread. Wherever he'd been he'd ordered a heap of food. She spotted French toast, omelets, a bowl of fruit and even some bagels and croissants. He made himself at home looking for plates, spoons, glasses, whatever he needed. She watched as he went about this work, not speaking, sensing his need to be busy, to be doing something other than thinking. Whatever it was that was on his back right now, it was bad.

"You were planning on feeding an army, John?" She asked trying to lighten the mood and was grateful for the tiny, but evident smile on his face.

"Why don't you go take a shower, and when you're done, we'll eat." He said taking his jacket off.

She nodded and headed for her room.

* * *

He hadn't planned to come to Joss' place. He just sort of ended up there. He'd gone to a family owned restaurant that he frequented and ended up ordering a whole bunch of food. It occurred to him that he wanted to be in her company. And so with the food in tow he ended up across the street from her building, waiting for her to come home.

He watched as she rounded her corner and he noted her jogging attire, the sweatpants that clung to her legs, the t-shirt that fit her just right and the sneakers on her feet. Her hair was tied back in a pony tail and she looked as if she'd had a good morning run. She didn't notice him as he crossed the street, but she didn't jump in surprise at the sound of his voice either in the back of her.

He was glad she'd invited him in. He was glad she didn't question his motives on being there. He knew she didn't quite accept his declaration that he just wanted to have breakfast with her, but he was glad she didn't push.

He quickly heated the food and plated it all. Looking at it, he realized he might have gone a little overboard with everything he'd ordered, but at least they'd be full. He noticed there was a table and two chairs just outside the sliding door on a small patio. He decided it'd be nice to eat out there. He walked over to it, opening the door slowly, looking around.

"What are you doing?"

She appeared in the living room just in the back of him smelling of flowers and soap and some sort of scented oil. Her face, skin were gleaming, having just been scrubbed clean. She wore a white tank top so he could see her shoulders, the curve of her breasts, and the khaki shorts she sported, gave him a great view of her legs. She had on some flip flops and he noticed she had on bright pink toe polish. He cleared his throat after taking in the sight of her and finally met her inquisitive gaze.

"I thought we could eat outside. It's cool out."

"You just feel like some fresh air."

"Just while we eat. Besides, we can people watch for a while."

"You want to people watch?" The skepticism in her tone tickled him. It was a favourite pastime of his to be honest and it was something encouraged in his former line of work. He was very skilled at it and could size a person up almost as soon as he met them. As he transported their food from the kitchen to the table outside he told her so.

"I had you pegged the first time I met you." He said as they sat down.

"You didn't." She said biting into her omelet.

"I did. I knew what you were about after our first conversation. I was intrigued." He admitted and saw her eyes twinkle.

"How intrigued were you?" She asked.

"Intrigued enough to want to know more about you. What kind of person you were, what you really stood for. I wanted to know if you were as good a person as you appeared to be. I found myself almost looking for flaws."

"And did you find any?"

He nodded as he swallowed a piece of croissant. "Just _one_. A _big_ one in fact."

"And what was that?" She asked sitting up straight in her chair, arms crossed.

"You were hell-bent on chasing me. You wanted to lock me up." He said as if he was pointing out the obvious. "All those criminals I wrapped up so nicely for you….."

He smiled at her laughter.

"….practically delivered them to your precinct and you didn't appreciate it."

Her laughter continued and he watched as it transformed her face. It was practically lit up.

"….then you turn around and get me shot."

"I apologized for that didn't I? She replied.

"There was an attempt over coffee one day, but…..I'm still waiting on that card you promised me, Carter."

She took a sip of her orange juice looking at him over the rim of her glass. There was still the hint of a smile on her face, but soon it vanished.

"I am sorry about that John. Truly." Her voice sounded so serious, he was taken aback.

"Water under the bridge, Carter. Truly. I never blamed you. I know what my former employers are capable of. I'm not saying that you're easily fooled don't get me wrong. But believe me when I tell you, they're clever when it comes to games of manipulation."

"Still…."

He was stunned that after all this time she still felt guilt about the whole thing. He wasn't lying when he'd said he hadn't blamed her. He never had. He believed it rested entirely all on Snow. She had unfortunately just been a pawn in his game.

He remembered walking slowly down the garage steps of the hospital, steadily losing blood, feeling weaker and weaker with every step. As Finch's voice begged him to hold on until he got there, he could only think of one thing.

Her face, her eyes on him as she got out of Snow's SUV. He was glad for one brief moment that she'd caught up with him, and that she had another memory of him, not as a homeless bum. But of someone who cleaned up nice, who wasn't a nameless, faceless person that time and people forgot.

As he leaned on Finch's shoulders and she confronted them at gunpoint he looked at her, pleading silently with his eyes. And momentarily she connected with him, remembering how he'd saved her and she had done the same for him that night. She'd saved him. She'd let them go.

She stood at the car door, regret and confusion on her face. She was horribly conflicted. She wanted to bring him into custody, she wanted to question him, find out who he was, but she didn't want him to die because of her.

She felt she owed him that and for that he was grateful. It was why he nodded in acknowledgement of her kindness before the door closed and Finch pulled off.

"I'm actually glad it happened."

"How can you possibly be glad that you got shot?"

"Well I'm not glad I got shot. But I'm glad the situation forced the inevitable to finally happen."

"Our meeting." She said smiling.

"Sooner or later, something had to give. And I'm glad that…." He wanted to say that he was glad to have her in his life. He was glad to work with her. He was glad that she was his friend, but he didn't say it.

"You sure have come a long way since then." She said. "We both have."

He wished he could believe her, but the weight of the day wore on him again and he wondered if he was still mentally stuck on that train the day Anton attacked him thinking about how his life had turned out. He wore a suit now, he had a job, he saved lives. He had a loft, a clean place to live and enough money to live comfortably. But he wondered if all of that was simply pretty wrapping covering an empty box.

Jessica was heavy on him today, like a burden, like a stone around his neck.

Instead of responding to what she said, he leaned back in his chair, legs wide in front of him and he put a hand under his chin.

They people watched for a while and took turns picking apart certain people, guessing at their habits, their interests even their occupations. They squabbled over who was far off base and who was right more than once and he felt himself grow a little lighter as the time went on.

"Let me clear these up." She said finally getting up an hour after they'd been outside. "You bought breakfast, the least I could do is clean up right?"

"Let me help you." He insisted, taking a lot of it with him inside. They ended up in the kitchen with her throwing away scraps and crumbs from their plates and saving a few croissants and fruit. He watched as she rinsed the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher and stared at a few photos on the refrigerator door, particularly one with her and Taylor, taken a few years ago.

They looked like the perfect family.

* * *

"I enjoyed breakfast with you, John. Thanks for stopping by." She said leaning on the counter next to him.

He nodded his head. "I guess I should get going." He said looking at his watch.

"I think you should stay, John." She reached out and tentatively took his hand. He looked at her then, startled a bit at the touch, but eventually he curled his fingers around hers.

"I don't know what it is, but….I know something's wrong. If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine, I understand. But I'm here for you, like you were here for me. If you don't want to talk, we don't have to. But I don't think you should be alone today."

She looked at him, trying not to show pity, but sympathy, understanding and a willingness to help bear whatever burden he was carrying. She saw a flash of vulnerability in his eyes, but he only nodded his head, not yet ready to speak. She was glad, she wouldn't push him.

"Thank you, Joss." He said.

"Come on." She said still holding his hand. "Let's go watch some mindless television for a while."

* * *

"This isn't a very good day is it?" They were both sitting on her couch, hours later, leaned backwards, heads resting on the back and he looked at her.

"What makes you say that?" He asked.

"You know what I mean." She said with a forced half smile. "Too many memories….faces of people who are gone…they just haunt you….people you can never forget."

He knew all too well what she meant, the pain, the guilt.

"I always think about Yusuf for some reason." He looked at her quizzically and she went on. "I was interrogating _Yusuf_, back in '04. He used to help deliver bomb vests for suicide bombers. We lost a few good men because of it. My job was to get him to give up the location of the other vests so we could detonate them."

Her voice seemed to take on a haunting timbre and there was sadness in her eyes mingled with regret.

"I remember how terrified he was….he was more concerned about how his family would be affected if he helped us. Tears were running down his face when he finally agreed, but he trusted me when I promised him I'd protect him, protect his family."

Her eyes were closed and she took a deep breath. He waited in silence with her till she was ready to go on almost holding his breath.

"He didn't make it. Daniels said it was an accident, but I felt like I let him down. I wonder a lot about his son, his wife. I wonder if they were okay, you know. What happened to them? A part of me felt like I took him away from them, I didn't keep my word."

"There wasn't anything that you could have done, Joss. That wasn't your fault."

"Sometimes I feel like it is."

* * *

It felt good to talk about Yusuf. Although she thought of him a lot, she never spoke of him to anyone. Since she and Reese had a military background in common, she figured he'd understand. She'd carried Yusuf around with her for years. Talking about him now, seemed to make the burden suddenly disappear.

"I was with…..Jessica in Mexico when it happened. We were in bed on an extended weekend vacation, making plans for the future. I was being discharged in a month. I was…"

She didn't speak when he started, his voice a little above a whisper. She simply reached over and took his hand. The gentle squeeze of her hand seemed to help him when his voice started to falter.

"…..talking about buying a stupid boat. She was…we'd take a trip together and we'd make a life together. She cut the TV on, and it was all over the news. We sat there together, neither of us making a sound, just shocked….just…..not believing what was going on."

He squeezed her hand.

"I knew I had to go back. In that moment, everything changed. There were no more plans for a boat, no romantic trip, no future together. A few weeks later, I left her. She cried, she called me a coward…maybe she was right. But I _**had**_ to go back. Nothing else mattered. Ten years later, walking into that hospital, finding out she was dead…..felt like a punishment for what I did. It was what I deserved, Joss….to have everything taken from me…for what I did."

The pain on his face, the guilt she saw, broke her heart. She got up from the couch and stood between his legs in front of him holding him by the hands.

"Come here." She said, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and he drew his arms around her holding onto her. His head rested against her belly and she could feel him shaking in her embrace. She rubbed his back, running her arms over him, comforting him, squeezing him.

She touched the side of his face, rubbing away the silent tears that dampened his cheeks. She cradled his head in her hands, trying her best to soothe him.

"It's gonna be okay, John." She said.

"I feel like I can't escape her."

"I know. You feel guilty about not being there. You wonder if it would have turned out differently if you hadn't left. I know. It's not your fault. You made a choice to leave, but you didn't know what would happen to her."

"I told her to be happy with him. When I saw her at the airport….I thought he'd be a better man than me, I told her to be happy with him."

She pulled away from him a bit, tilting his face up to look at her.

"Listen to me. No matter what happened, it is _not_ your fault. You couldn't have known." He closed his eyes and she knew the guilt was eating at him again. "Look at me, John." She said firmly. "It is _**not**_ your fault. You have to move on. You have to let it go. You can't live in the past anymore. You're still the man she thought you were, a _**good**_ man."

She wiped at his tears again. "Yes you are." His grip on her was still firm, like he needed her strength right now, so she didn't move out of his embrace. Normally strong in appearance, menacing even at times, he felt so small and vulnerable as they held onto each other.

"You'll be fine." She said tracing her thumb over his eyebrows, one by one. She ran her finger down the length of his nose, then over his mouth before she realized what she was doing. His eyes had been closed that entire time, and he finally opened them. His blue eyes seemed so translucent then and she felt pulled into his gaze.

She didn't know what happened, or how but she bent her head down and pressed her lips to his. She felt his arms tighten around her waist as they kissed. His lips felt soft, tender.

What was she doing?

She pulled away.

"I'm sorry." She said moving out of his embrace and away from him. "I just…..I'm sorry I got caught up in…..I don't know…."

She felt hot. She felt different. She felt like she was running away as she headed toward the kitchen not knowing what she was looking for when she opened a cupboard.

She heard his footsteps as he followed her. She didn't turn around as he stood in back of her. But she could feel him there waiting…..for her.

"Joss….."

* * *

"Joss…"

He hadn't expected the kiss.

When he came here earlier this morning he didn't know what to expect, but it wasn't this.

She held him, comforted him. She kissed him and the light brushing of her lips on his was totally unexpected, something he realized in an instant that he wanted. Something had been brewing between them for a while he guessed, but he never knew the magnitude of it till now.

She shrank back from him, looking almost afraid of what had just happened.

He followed her into the kitchen and stood in back of her. Just a few short feet. The distance was small, but would take an effort by both of them to cross.

He called her name again.

"Joss….." He put his hand on her shoulder, the touch made her jump, but she still couldn't face him. He moved closer, felt her take a nervous breath and put his other hand on her waist. She didn't turn around, but she didn't push him away.

* * *

His hands were on her, she thought. It seemed they both stood there for what seemed like ages, both of them still, stuck in a moment where they were frozen.

She felt branded by his hands, their grip on her, firm. She realized she could do one of two things. She could quietly ask him to leave. Knowing him, he would probably do as she asked, and she was sure neither of them would speak of this again. Or she could turn around right now and take a chance on whatever it was that had suddenly happened between them.

He moved closer to her yet again and she felt him drawing her closer. She turned around then meeting his eyes briefly before he bent his head to crash his lips onto hers. He brought his hand up cupping her face; her hands clung to his back as his mouth opened over hers.

When he finally slid his tongue past her teeth, she gasped, moaning into his mouth. His tongue made a sweet exploration once inside, dancing against hers, softly, sweetly. She felt caught up in him, in that moment. Nothing else mattered but his touch.

His hands moved from her waist, to her face, her shoulders. He seemed desperate to hold onto her any way he could. She felt the same and her hands travelled over his back, gripping his shirt, holding onto his arms.

He picked her up, placing her on the counter and his kisses became more urgent. It was as if they were sharing something that had been caged for a long time, desperate to break free. His lips on her neck, his tongue on her skin, his hands moving slowly under her tank top, she wanted him, but she knew this was not the right time or the place.

"John…." She whispered, holding his hands, stopping them from moving further up her top and over her back. "We can't, John."

He looked at her with hooded eyes, exercising amazing restraint. He bent his forehead to touch hers and his hands moved back to her waist and stayed there.

"It's been a pretty draining day. You've been through a lot." She ran her hand over the top of his head, and down the back of his neck. "I don't want us to rush into something because…. everyone's emotions are running high. We can't….."

"You're right." He said agreeing with her. "But I do want us to explore…..this." He looked at her meaningfully, and managed a smile.

"We will, John. We will." She gave him a quick kiss on the mouth and he groaned. "I know…..I know…"

"So what now, Joss?"

"I don't know. What do you do on your days off?" She watched as he seemed to think it over.

"Sometimes I play Xianqi in the park with Mr. Han."

"What's Xianqi?"

"It's the Chinese version of chess."

"And who's Mr. Han?"

"An old Chinese man I met when I was living on the streets. He's been a good friend to me over the past two years or so. He's very wise, insightful

"Who normally wins these games of yours?"

"Well…he's a very good opponent; formidable…..I'd say we've beaten each other a few times over the years."

"Well, how bout you show me how to play. I have a chess set somewhere around here."

"Sure, okay."

He lifted her off the counter and ten minutes later they were in the middle of the living room floor, a chess board between them and two opened bottles of beer at their side.

She looked at him mischievously as he went over the basics of the game. She decided that she liked the expression on his face now much better than the one he had when he brought breakfast earlier. He was definitely lighter, more at ease and she felt he'd made a breakthrough.

"Go on, Joss. Ladies first."

"You know I'm gonna beat you, right?"

He laughed and squeezed her hand. "I'm going to enjoy watching you try.


End file.
